A few years ago, our sweet grandson was not responding to
his name. At eighteen months he wasn’t
talking. His older sister was quite the
chatterbox by that time. I know, I know,
you shouldn’t compare one to another.
Each child is different.
His parents brushed it off as “being a boy.” His other grandparents claimed it was because
he was spoiled. My parents thought he
was deaf. I knew better. Our grandson was most assuredly not hearing
impaired. When his favorite Disney movie
was put on the TV, he would come running, from anywhere in the house as soon as
the introductory music began. His
hearing was fine.
At 22 months of age, a doctor’s appointment and a
referral to a neurologist confirmed my suspicions. “Your child has autism.” What I wasn’t prepared for were his next
comments, “He is in the severe category.
He will be non-verbal. You should
start researching adult placement for him.”
Our son was in shock, our daughter-in-law cried, and I went in to research mode.
Having worked with autistic teenagers and gone through some training to
serve them best, I believed all was not lost.
The family had a few weeks of grief over the loss of the
childhood they had envisioned for their son.
Then, being the one to always encourage others to move positively
forward, I presented the simple facts.
“This is what is it. The real
question is, ‘Now what?’” How do we move
forward with this information? How can
we help our grandson be the best person he can be?
At the age of five, Connor started mimicking people. Not voluntarily, but if you told him to say
something, he would give it his best effort.
That was when I knew, without a doubt, that the boy is very
capable. He learns differently than
other children, and it is our job to help him get what he knows inside him, to
be communicated to others.
I would love to tell you he has, at the age of nine,
become a chatterbox. He hasn’t. The road is long and the progress slow. However, we have never given up hope that our
grandson will be able to communicate with others and live a wholly satisfying
life. He may not be able to live on his
own. He will most likely live with his
sister. He may end up in a group home, but he will not be institutionalized as
the doctor initially suggested.
No matter what your scary word is: Autism, Cancer,
Incurable, Terminal. We must never give
up hope.
The things I often tell others are…
Be aware
Be informed
Find your new normal
Trust that God knows what He’s doing
#ChooseJoy
If you'd like to know more about ways to choose joy,
contact me at Pam@NewDirectionLC.com
